


Drying Out

by FairestCat



Category: Astreiant Series - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Point of Sighs, adrenaline crash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairestCat/pseuds/FairestCat
Summary: At the end ofPoint of Sighs, after the tide has turned, Philip and Nico take themselves home.
Relationships: Philip Eslingen/Nicolas Rathe
Comments: 15
Kudos: 40
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Drying Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shycraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shycraft/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, Shycraft! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to play in this fandom.
> 
> This takes place directly after the last scene in chapter fourteen of _Point of Sighs_ , but before the epilogue.
> 
> Thanks as always to oliviacirce for the beta!

The trip home was quick -- the low-flyer making good time down still-empty streets -- but it still felt too long. Philip's palms burned where they gripped the blanket around his shoulders, and his head throbbed in time with the rhythm of the cobblestones under the low-flyer's wheels. The mix of adrenaline and fear that had propelled him through the night was fading now, leaving only exhaustion and pain.

He could feel Nico shivering where he was slumped against his side, from the cold, but also, he thought, from relief. Nico had been almost vibrating with energy in the water, a wild look in his eyes that Philip hoped never to witness again; but now he was shaking in an entirely different way, great shudders as the tension left his body.

When the low-flyer came to a stop, they stumbled out together, a tangle of sodden blankets and shaky limbs, and Philip almost didn't hear the driver call after them. He turned, fumbling for a wallet that was no longer at his waist -- lost somewhere underground in this long night -- to see the man reaching out not to request a fee, but to offer him a bottle, some sort of spirits by the look of it, though it was too dim to read the label.

"I keep this under my seat for cold nights," he explained, pressing it against Philip's chest. "Just a little pick-me-up, you understand? But it looks like you gentlemen could use it much more than I can tonight."

Philip automatically brought a hand up to grab the bottle, meaning to hand it back, but the shock of the cold glass against his abraded skin made his hand spasm and his head spin. When his head cleared, Nico was in front of him -- one hand under his elbow, the other holding the bottle against his chest -- and the low-flyer was gone. 

Philip looked down at the bottle and laughed hollowly. "We must look quite the sight, to be gifted such bounty." It was cheap spirits for sure, but the bottle was still half-full. 

One side of Nico's mouth quirked up in the beginning of a smile, and in that moment it was the most beautiful sight Philip had ever seen. 

\---

Nico reluctantly sent Philip upstairs alone, detouring to the well at the back of the building. Philip's wounds would need to be seen to, and the salt-bracken-decay smell of the Riverdeme clung to them both. The downstairs windows were still dark, shutters pulled tight. He'd retrieve Sunflower from the weaver's daughter in the morning, which by the look of the sky was not far off.

When he came back around the house, Fourie's promised physician was just coming through the gate. 

She had the slightly-untidy look of a woman hastily roused from sleep, but her eyes were sharp and clear. She gave him a brisk, assessing once-over, eyes lingering on the bottle tucked under his arm. "You must be Adjunct Point Rathe. I'm Alyt Bethan. Surintendant Fourie said you'd be expecting me."

"Doctor," he inclined his head in acknowledgment. "My leman's already upstairs. He's the one who needs seeing to." He reached to open the door and nearly lost his hold on the bucket, water splashing cold over his fumbling hands.

Bethan raised one eloquent eyebrow and reached past him to open the door. Nico gave up any hope of concealing his own injuries from Philip, even for the night, and led the way up the stairs.

\--

Philip jumped at the sound of the door opening behind him. He'd meant to start building up the fire -- though he wondered if he'd ever be warm again -- but found his hands shaking too much to even light the lamp nearest the door.

"Here, let me." With Nico's hands holding Philip's steady, it took only a moment for the light to catch.

Nico was followed into the room by a small woman in dark skirts carrying a physician's satchel. Surintendant Fourie must have sent a runner to wake her even before Philip and Nico had left the cellar. If not for the waiting low-flyer, she would likely have arrived before them.

"Captain vaan Esling," she said, rummaging through her bag. "I'm Bethan." She tipped a bit of powder into a cup of water and handed it to him. "Take this. It'll help with the pain. And then I'd like to start by taking a look at those hands" 

Philip dutifully drank, grimacing at the bitter taste, and held out his hands.

\---

It was easy for Nico to fall into the familiar domestic rituals of making tea and tending to the stove. Easier than looking at the tense lines of Philip's shoulders, than hearing his cut-off oaths as the physician efficiently cleaned and wrapped first his battered hands, and then the livid scrapes along his back.

He let the tea stew longer than he usually would and poured two generous mugs. He thought to add honey, but as neither he nor Philip habitually sweetened their tea, they had nothing on hand. After some thought he picked up the low-flyer driver's bottle and added a generous slug to each cup. He picked up one of the cups, breathing in the steam, but not yet drinking.

"It's much more effective if you actually drink it." His leman's wry tone made him start, and he turned around. Philip's hands had been wrapped in clean bandages, and there would be a livid bruise on his temple by morning, but some of the colour had returned to his face, and his eyes no longer looked haunted.

"Or, I could give it to you," Nico offered, holding the cup out. "I should allow Doctor Bethan to examine me. We've already kept her from her bed for too long."

Within five minutes, Bethan had applied salve to the burn on Nico's hand, but pronounced him otherwise acceptable, and was briskly re-packing her bag. "I'll be by in the afternoon to check the bandages on Captain vaan Esling's hands," she said, "and I expect you to still be here as well, Adjunct Point. I'm sure the Points can manage without you for a day."

And then she was gone, and they were alone.

They finished their tea in silence, side-by-side, but not quite touching.

It was Nico who broke first. "I told the Riverdeme she couldn't have you--" He was laughing, even though it wasn't funny at all. "I told her she'd have to go through me first--" His hands were shaking, his knuckles white around his now-empty cup.

"Yes, you did," Philip said, taking the cup from him. "You really did." He wrapped one arm around Nico's shoulders, pulling him against his chest. "I guess you're stuck with me now."

And suddenly, that was the funniest thing Nico had ever heard. He found himself shaking with laughter, face pressed to Philip's chest. And then he wasn't laughing at all, and Philip held him through that too.


End file.
